


Attribution

by In_Pieces



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Expect some cultural references, F/F, Kidnapping, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader is a bit sappy, Romance, Sombra doesn't like having feelings, Violence, set in Mexico
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:05:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27050140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Pieces/pseuds/In_Pieces
Summary: She has always been Olivia to you, but there’s more to her than meets the eye. You’re going to learn it the hard way.
Relationships: Sombra | Olivia Colomar/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 66





	1. The Way to a Hacker's Heart

The smell of freshly baked bread filled the air as you stared at the oven, watching the dough slowly adopt a golden hue. The _bolillos_ would be ready in no time, and soon the bakery would see an influx of people looking for the warmest pieces to take home.

There was a certain beauty in seeing them coming in with smiles plastered on their faces and making small talk as they picked this and that. Some weren’t as chatty, of course, and barely acknowledged you when you greeted them, but most were familiar faces that you’d grown to cherish in the last couple of months you’d been working at Las Nieblas.

Calling yourself a professional baker would be a rather preposterous claim, but you had a few years of experience under your belt and were absolutely thankful that Rosa had given you a chance to work for her.

There were many new things to learn, many messes to clean, but you liked your job. The pay wasn’t bad. The hours were decent. Rosa was nice. Her daughter, Alejandra, was a peach. And the best part of it all was that you could take a lil’ something home for dinner.

Okay, that was the second best part. The first one was her.

Alejandra said she was a friend of theirs, and you saw her 'often' enough to consider her a regular. She was a mystery, an impossibly pretty face with a hectic schedule and an effortlessly mesmerizing presence. She was bold. She was witty. And you loved the way she’d teasingly raise one of her eyebrows when she caught you staring- which happened more often that you'd like to admit. 

Sometimes your exchanges were strictly business-like, but she’d often stay for a while and talk about nothing like you were good friends. She’d step away from the counter when another client came in and give you that look as soon as their backs were turned: a pointed stare, a not-so subtle eye-roll, and then she’d lazily move back to her old position, palm under her chin.

Funny enough, she never bothered to tell you her name, and it never felt right to ask. You heard it coming out of Alejandra’s lips one day after she waved her goodbye, and Olivia merely winked at you before she walked away.

Olivia was supposed to be a silly and menial crush that would lead nowhere, but it had become exceedingly difficult to pretend that she didn’t have the damn power to make your days brighter with her presence alone.

The little bell above the door chimed as a customer came in, snapping you out of your thoughts. A low curse left your lips, eyes darting from the oven to the kitchen door on your right, where you were able to see someone’s hand picking up a pair of tongs.

“Alejandra!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, hoping she would be able to hear you. A couple of seconds went by, and your shoulders slumped when you didn’t hear her coming down the stairs. Maybe she was busy or had fallen asleep, and now you had to be hasty if you didn’t want to have burnt _bolillos_ on your hands.

“Gimme a second!” This time, your words were aimed to the unsuspecting client who, by the sound of it, was already by the register. And there it was, the smile that slowly crept up your lips when you saw Olivia looking to the side, seemingly interested in the passerby scurrying outside. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Olivia greeted back, pushing the tray your way. She looked a little worse for wear: bloodshot eyes, last night’s makeup a little smudged under them. It seemed that she’d been awake for far too long, her usual demeanor muted with exhaustion.

“Rough night?”

“Something like that.”

“Let me make your day, then.” It was a very bold statement, but hearing Olivia’s defiant snort and seeing that sparkle in her eyes made it all worth it.

Olivia always bought the same thing: a _concha_ , preferably the one with the most sugar paste on top. It was no secret that those were her favorites, and that was what drove you to make something special for her.

A small sigh escaped your lips as you stared at your creation tucked away in the back, away from prying eyes and grabby hands. There, on top of one of the counters, laid a heart-shaped _concha_ with the sugar paste dyed in a pretty shade of purple that matched her eyes. You've been secretly making one of those with every batch, but never found the right time to give it to her. Not until today.

She could very well hate it, now that you thought about it. What was it supposed to be? A token of affection? A friendly gesture? Either way, it was silly, and you thought that, perhaps, you shouldn’t have opened your mouth in the first place.

“Is making me wait part of your plan?”

It wasn’t. You were gathering the courage to actually place it in the bag and, after a couple of tense seconds and an internal cry of ‘fuck it!’, you placed it inside without trying to dwell on it too much.

Olivia watched you with keen interest, violet eyes lit up with mischievous amusement. Her lips were curled in a cocky smile, and the sight alone managed to bring some color to your already flustered cheeks.

She gracefully accepted the paper bag, noticing that it was certainly heavier than what she was used to holding. She reached inside after hastily unfolding the top and you visibly tensed, waiting for her reaction.

Olivia said nothing at first, fingers closing in on the gift to take a closer look at it. And then, she laughed. That silly, almost child-like joy managed to reach her eyes, and it didn’t leave after she let it softly fall back into the bag. “I think I feel better now,” She said, and the relief flooded your mind in waves. She left the money on the counter and walked towards the door, looking over her shoulder before she pushed it open. “I’ll make your day next time.”

That sounded like a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, y'all! This fic was inspired by two things: a scene from LadyMuzzMuzz's fic, [ A Human Heart ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24223267/chapters/58359514) (which I highly recommend if you're into Devil May Cry), and the bits of lore from the Overwatch cookbook.
> 
> I'll try my best to explain all cultural references and other fun stuff here in the notes! [ Bolillos ](https://craftlog.com/m/i/3851008=s1280=h960) are savory rolls that taste similar to baguettes. [Conchas](https://cdn1.matadornetwork.com/blogs/2/2018/10/conchas-mexicanas-shutterstock_409664776.jpg) are a type of sweet bread with a sugar paste crust on top. They are not usually heart-shaped, but some bakeries opt to give them that shape around Valentine's Day.
> 
> Thank you for reading! :D I'll try to update every week/week and a half.


	2. Promises

The kitchen was a mess. You had, unfortunately, knocked over a sack of flour, making the powder coat everything in its vicinity including the floor, the counters, a couple of trays, and, hell, even yourself.  
  
Rosa and Alejandra had, thankfully, gone to a party. The teen hadn’t been too thrilled about it, dragging her feet as she came down the stairs and asking her mother ‘if they really had to go’. Big parties had never been Alejandra’s thing, and a distant cousin’s quinceañera didn’t fit her definition of fun. You’d felt bad seeing that sour expression on Alejandra’s face, but Rosa’s refusal to budge had been a blessing. They didn’t need to see the chaos that still reigned in front of you.

The bristles of the broom in your hand, once pristine and yellow, had already turned white, and you watched the flour fall off the dustpan with disdain. A small mountain of it had formed in the trash can, ominous and threatening, and you took it out before another tragedy occurred. A cloud of flour plopped out like a mocking goodbye after you hurled the black bag inside the garbage container, and all it got was a pointed stare before you headed back inside, tired and defeated.  
  
A familiar bell echoed in the air as a reminder that you’d forgotten to lock the front door. Still, the lights were off, and the fact that someone thought it would be wise to come in made you sigh in disappointment.  
  
“Sorry, we’re closed.” You called out firmly, but politely. Your hands found the dusty broom on your right and you gripped the handle steadily in case you had to use it to kick them out -Rosa was forced to do that once, apparently, and you could only hope it wouldn’t boil down to that.  
  
“Even for me?” Olivia looked almost eerie standing there, the haze from her augments shining in the dark like small neon signs. Her face was only faintly illuminated by the light coming in from the kitchen, but you didn’t need to see it to know she was smiling. “Nice weapon.”  
  
“I didn’t know it was you.” You retorted. The blatant excuse made her laugh, and you loosened your grip on the broom, letting it down unceremoniously with a small thud. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Aw, did you miss me?” Olivia walked past you and into the kitchen, taking a seat on the closest counter like she’d done that a million times before. She didn’t wait for a reply because, quite frankly, she didn’t need one; your expression said it all. Her eyes landed on the white powder that still resided on top of this and that and, with a raised eyebrow, she continued: “What’s with the flour?”  
  
“It’s a long story.”  
  
“I got time.”  
  
You ended up sitting beside her on the counter, paying no attention to how time seemed to fly by when she was around. What was supposed to be dinner for tonight and breakfast the following morning currently laid on your hands, but you wouldn’t like it to be any other way.   
  
Olivia settled for the _oreja_ , breaking off small pieces of it before she popped them in her mouth while you nibbled absentmindedly on a _cochito_. A kid-sized strawberry milk carton was right beside her, half-empty already. It was comical to see her drinking out of that tiny straw -not that you looked any less amusing sipping on some chocolate milk from an equally small container.  
  
“Don’t think you ever told me what you do for a living.”  
  
“I work with computers.” Olivia stated, and wrinkled her nose when she slurped the last of her drink.  
  
“Is that what those are for?” You motioned to the side of her head, entranced by the grafts, and for a second all you got was an amused stare.   
  
“You act like you’ve never seen augments before.”  
  
“Not like yours.” You said. Hers seemed intricately cosmetic, like something you’d see in old sci-fic movies. You liked them. “May I?”   
  
Olivia shrugged, but didn’t try to stop you when you reached out to gently touch one of the grafts on the side of her head. It was surprisingly warm, the smooth surface feeling alive under your fingertips, as if faintly buzzing with electricity.   
  
Your fingers followed the augment’s path with feather-like touches, and you leaned in a bit closer, fascinated by it all. “Do you feel anything if I touch them?”   
  
“Pressure.” Olivia replied. “Unless you try to yank them out.”   
  
You hummed in response and let you hand wander to the back of her head, where the graft became a complicated circuit of alloy. “These are nice.”  
  
“I only get the best.” Olivia turned to face you, the sly smile on her lips reaching her eyes and, for a moment, all you could feel was your heart thumping in your ears as your cheeks began to burn. “I like it when you blush.” She commented nonchalantly, even if her intention had been anything but that, one of her hands finding its way to your cheek.

“Hard not to when you look at me like that.” You breathed, barely above a whisper, fingers slipping to the back of her neck. Time seemed to slow down, the tension in the air almost unbearable as you held her gaze. Had her eyes always been this pretty? This deep? It was hard to tell, and even harder to stop yourself from inching closer, trying to muster the courage to kiss her.   
  
Olivia pulled you close, her lips barely brushing against yours, all too teasing before she, unexpectedly, broke the distance between you. The kiss was surprisingly slow. Gentle. Her lips impossibly soft and warm. She tasted like strawberries and sugar and you melted against her touch, savoring the moment.  
  
She slowly pulled away, hand still on your face and, with a smirk, wiped a bit of her lipstick off the corner of your mouth. “Might want to look in a mirror before you leave.” She took a good look at the clock perched on the wall and frowned before she hopped off the counter. “This was fun. We should do it again sometime.”  
  
“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”  
  
You looked at your reflection in the small mirror in the bathroom when she was gone, and couldn’t help but laugh. There was flour on your hair and temple, but what stuck out the most were the purple lipstick marks all over your mouth. A little parting gift to remember her by.

It was good to know Olivia kept her promises. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quinceañera is a party to celebrate a girl's 15th birthday and her 'turning into a woman'. The closest equivalent to that would be a sweet sixteen party. It's not unusual for some of the girl's relatives to stay after the party's over in order to help her parents clean up the venue, so we can't blame Alejandra for not wanting to go, lol.
> 
> More bread talk! Orejas are palmiers, but I called them orejas here just to be cohesive. [ Cochitos ](https://animalgourmet.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/puerquitos-piloncillo.jpg) are a type of pig-shaped sweet bread made with piloncillo (unrefined cane sugar). 
> 
> Thank you for reading! :D


	3. Netflix and No Chill

The sun shone brightly in the sky, promising the perfect weather for a date as a couple of lazy clouds slowly moved across the horizon. Birds chirped in the distance, laughter echoed through the streets, and a gentle breeze carried the soothing smell of the sea as you made your way to the bakery, humming an upbeat tune. It truly seemed as if nothing could sour your mood today.

Well, maybe one thing could.

Ominous clouds now plagued the sky as rain poured down as heavy as hail, clashing violently against the ground. The pleasant weather was replaced by a biting cold that made you shiver as you tried to avoid stepping in muddy puddles, lest you'd get water in your shoes. The only reason why you weren’t drenched was because Rosa had lent you an umbrella; she said going out was a bad idea, but canceling your plans was out of the question. You hadn't seen Olivia in a couple of weeks, and a little rain wasn't going to stop you. 

The café was unsurprisingly crowded. The smell of coffee and vanilla was strong in the air, the whirring sound of espresso machines and milk steamers drowning out almost all traces of lively chatter across the room as flustered workers sped through the small space, muttering apologies for the delays.

No one was going to leave until the rain died down, and the thought of that made you sigh in disappointment.

Olivia was fashionably late, looking none too pleased as water dripped down her hair. She took one good look at the place and stared at the plethora of people who looked all too cozy sitting down, one of her eyebrows twitching up with expected disbelief.

You gave her two options: wait until someone left so you could have the nice coffee date you’d been promising her for so long, or go back to yours and have a sad cup of coffee by the TV.

She chose the latter.

Olivia now sat on the couch, seemingly content with her cup of instant cappuccino, a flower-patterned blanket strewn across her lap to keep her warm.

“Haven’t watched a movie in a while.”

You turned to face her, but her eyes were glued to the screen. A couple of CGI spaceships were engaging in a fierce battle, flashes of red, green and orange coming out of their massive blasters.

“Work’s been keeping you busy?”

“I barely have any time off.” She replied and paused to take a sip of her drink, frowning a bit when she realized it’d gone warm. “Coming here is like being on vacation.”

“Sorry you have to spend your free time like this.” The rain kept pouring outside, hitting the ceiling hard and cascading down the windows. Thunder rolled in the distance like an omen, promising more of that drowsy weather. It was such a shame, really. You wanted to take Olivia somewhere fancy and this was all you were able to offer: overly sweet coffee and an old movie.

“It doesn't bother me.” She said, leaning forward to place her mug down before cozying up on the couch again, pulling up the sleeves of the oversized sweater you’d let her borrow.

It had taken only a minute for both of you to get soaked to the bone as you’d walked from the café to the taxi, the umbrella doing very little against the sudden gust of wind that hit you straight in the face. Her jacket was perched on top of a door, the excess water dripping down and forming a small puddle on the ground. She had a full face of makeup when you’d met, but all traces of that now clung to a makeup wipe that currently laid in the middle of the coffee table. She’d pulled up her hair too, the intricate pattern of her augments in full view.

Olivia put a lot of effort into her appearance, now that you thought about it. The fancy clothes. The flawless makeup. The flashy augments. Everything about her screamed 'unattainable', and you idly thought about how out of place she seemed there, in that sad little town, watching a movie in your old couch when she could be doing far more exciting things in the big city she worked at. 

You didn’t notice she’d paused the movie until she spoke up. “Are you going to watch the movie or are you going to keep eyeballing me?”

“What? I was watching it!”

“I don’t think so.” She crossed her arms, waiting to see how you’d react and, just as she predicted, your face grew hot, which prompted her to laugh.

“One day I’ll make _you_ blush and you’re not gonna like it.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

Backing out of the challenge would only make things worse, so you shifted in your seat, trying to contain the smile that crept up your lips as Olivia stared expectantly, looking too amused for comfort.

“I like your eyes.”

“Thank you.”

You snorted. Too weak.

“You deserve the world.” Nope, that wasn't right either. You regretted those words the moment they left your lips.

“I know.”

“ _Olivia_.” You whined.

“What? Giving up so soon?”

You looked at the paused movie to your right, as if that still frame held all the answers you sought. One of the characters was on the ground, clutching his bloodied chest as his partner kneeled beside him, mouth agape mid-sentence. It appeared that the enemies had infiltrated the ship, and he, sadly, wasn’t going to make it. It was a touching scene, and maybe that would be the best approach to this little game. Something sensible. Thoughtful.

She mistook your silence for a sign of defeat, her face the perfect painting of someone who was calling out an early victory, but you weren’t quite done yet.

“Have I ever told you I admire you?” You made a small pause and hoped she wouldn’t reply; she didn’t, merely raising an eyebrow as she tried to guess where you were going with that. “You are so driven and smart. And brave, too.” You added, eyes drifting to her augments -she'd mentioned how painful they were once before, and getting them willingly was formidable in itself. This wasn’t a game anymore, but rather something you’d been meaning to tell her. It felt right to do it now, masking your words as part of a silly thing that both of you knew had suddenly turned far too earnest. “I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve you. But I’m glad we met.”

Olivia looked tense, her expression oddly unreadable for a couple of seconds before she visibly relaxed, nose scrunching up in faux judgement. “That was… sappy.” 

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “So… what did I win?”

“You _didn’t_ win.”

“Oh, come on. I tried my best. I think I deserve a prize.”

She hummed, pretending to mull over the request. “What do you want?”

“You.”

“Ugh, you ruined it.” She looked away and, just like that, pressed play, letting the TV remote fall unceremoniously on her lap.

You laughed and gave her a tender kiss on her cheek before you laid your head on her shoulder, hugging her arm for good measure. You _knew_ she was smiling, but you’d rub that in some other time. The movie was fairly interesting, all things considered, and you actually wanted to see how it would end.

The plot took such a sharp and dramatic turn that you failed to notice the way Olivia was looking at you, the movie long forgotten in her mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates. Life got in the way, but here's a sweet chapter for ya!
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


	4. Point-blank

Calaveras wasn’t the first place that came to mind when Olivia suggested going out for drinks but, as time went on, you became increasingly aware that her definition of a good time could be _slightly_ questionable at times. Fun, but questionable. 

The bar didn't have the best reputation and, for a clueless outsider, it looked like an ordinary and quaint little place that reeked of cigarette smoke and regret. The friendly greeting the bartender threw Olivia’s way was a clear sign that she’d been there before, and, soon after, two drinks that matched the color of the sky were placed in front of you, decorated with half an orange slice to resemble a blazing sun.

The night went by in a blur, the taste of orange and Sprite coating your tongue as a gentle buzz lingered on the back of your head. Old-school breakup songs were playing on the speakers, and that alone made the fruity burn that lingered on your throat seem far more enjoyable than it already was.

Not to mention Olivia kept _sweetening_ things up.

She ‘innocently’ straightened in her seat and took a small sip of her drink, pretending she hadn’t whispered the filthiest things in your ear mere moments ago.

“You’re all bark and no bite.” You muttered against your glass, knowing you were playing with fire and those little words would be enough to get her going. 

“Is that what you think?” She retorted, graciously accepting the challenge. She placed her hand on one of your knees, her thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. You shrugged. She smiled.

Her eyes never left yours as she inched towards your inner thigh and slowly trailed up, making your skin burn as her fingers curled against the fabric of your skirt, hitching it up.

Your face began to grow hotter than it already was as she inched closer and closer between your legs, showing no signs of stopping. Not until you placed your hand on top of hers and, with a huff, slid it all the way back to your knee before someone noticed. Olivia laughed. You just shook your head.

“Let’s go.”

She didn’t have to say it twice.

* * *

A content sigh escaped your lips as you relaxed against the mattress, trying to catch your breath. Olivia loved turning you into a mess, and you loved being _her_ mess.

The sun was already rising, warm rays filtering through the curtains as they lazily swayed with the wind, casting a lovely glow on her bare skin. Neither of you said a word, but there was no need to fill the silence when you were together.

Olivia’s gaze was soft, but not missing that lively spark that you adored as she reached out to caress your cheek. You leaned into the touch, and turned your head to press a gentle kiss on her palm that made the corners of her lips twitch up.

It was hard to look at her with anything short of adoration when she smiled like that. To feel anything but warmth when she was so gentle. You leaned forward to kiss her, feeling her smile against your lips.

“I love you.” You said it softly, barely above a whisper, lips still brushing hers. You tried to kiss her again but, this time, she pulled away.

The gentle atmosphere was replaced by suffocating unease as Olivia slowly sat up, trying to distance herself from you. She was frowning, her chest sharply rising and falling with each steady breath.

“You don’t.”

“Olivia…”

“You don’t know me.” There was something about the way she said that, about the way she pursed her lips and the frown on her face deepened. She sounded exasperated, and that only managed to confuse you even further.

“What are you talking about? We’ve known each other for _months_.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She countered. “And this is not how things were supposed to go.”

Not how they were supposed to go?

It was as if Olivia had suddenly forgotten that she’d been with you for so long you’d lost track of how many mismatched socks you’d found in the laundry basket. How many random clothes had shown up in your drawers or end up missing from the closet. How many times she'd touched up her hair in the bathroom and left more than a couple of purple stains in the tub that neither of you had been able to remove.

She'd made this _her_ space. _Her_ home. And now she was making it seem like it had all been a one-directional affair. She'd never said she loved you, never said she cared, but she _showed it_. It was there, in that smile she had for you when she showed up unexpected at the door. In all the late-night conversations. The gentle touches. The stolen kisses. 

A part of you wanted to be angry. Felt as if you deserved to feel the rage bubbling up your throat. But that never came. Instead, a deep heartache settled in the pit of your stomach and traveled up your chest, almost reaching your eyes now.

“How were they supposed to go, then?”

Olivia had always been witty, always had a reply ready on the tip of her tongue but, this time, she said nothing. 

Her phone went off somewhere in the living room and she left to take the call, the tension remaining in the air. The tears threatened to fall now that she was gone, but you only swallowed thickly, mind going a mile a minute.

She was half-dressed when she came back, and picked up whatever was strewn on the floor before she put on, refusing to meet your gaze. “I have to go.”

“I know.” You replied softly. Maybe that was what prompted Olivia to linger on the door frame before she, ultimately, shook her head and left without a word.

The house felt too empty now. Too cold. The warm gusts of morning air bit your skin like frost, and the sun rays, pale and bleak, provided little to no comfort, but there was nothing you could do now. Nothing but listen to the city coming alive outside your window and letting the chaos lull you to a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


	5. Going for the Throat

Sometimes the best way to mend a broken heart was to bake. Bake until your mind stopped thinking about the girl and focused on the right consistencies. The right temperatures. The way the dough stuck to your fingers. How the smell of freshly-baked bread spread across the house.  
  
It was something you knew like the back of your hand. Something that kept you grounded and focused. But all your hard work currently laid on the kitchen counter, heavy and stiff, and you weren’t sure where you’d gone wrong. Was there something missing? Was the butter too cold? The oven too hot? The dough over kneaded?   
  
You inspected the _cuernito_ in your hands, watching the little trail of steam that came out when you tore it in half. It was dreadfully dense, lacking the soft, airy texture you were so used to seeing and, with a sigh, you placed it back on the cooling rack before leaning against the counter, tired eyes wandering towards the fridge.   
  
A couple of colorful magnets adorned the doors. Memories from old trips, souvenirs from family and friends, but what caught your eye was something at the bottom of the grocery list you'd stuck there. The words ‘cinnamon cookies’ stood out in Olivia’s neat handwriting followed by a small heart, as if the doodle was her own little way of saying ‘please and thank you’. She liked to dunk them in her morning coffee. You weren't sure when she'd written that.

It was no surprise that all of your thoughts circled back to her, but how could they not when there were so many reminders that she'd been there? Sure, you could push her favorite mug to the back of the pantry, shove her clothes in a drawer, and hide her makeup in the medicine cabinet, but every single corner of the house had a memory attached to it. A memory of her smile. Her deep violet eyes. The smell of her perfume. It was _torturous_.   
  
She hadn’t broken up with you just yet, but you knew that was bound to happen sooner or later. You haven’t heard from her in a couple of days, and no matter how much you wanted to reach out and understand what was on her mind, you just couldn’t.  
  
Every time you opened that weird messaging app she’d installed on your phone and pressed her name, you would hesitate until that prickly desire went away. A part of you was feebly hoping that you could work things out. That you wouldn’t have to hear that ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ spiel coming out of her mouth -although you were certain you weren’t going to; Olivia had never been one to sugar coat things, so maybe she’d say that yes, it _was_ you. But you didn’t want to dwell on it too much and, for now, a walk seemed like the best option to clear your mind.   
  
You shivered against the cold evening air that breezed past your frame as you walked back home. The coffee in your hands had already turned cold, but you still took a small sip as you fished your keys out of your pocket, hearing the door unlock with a familiar click before you pushed it open.  
  
Your fingers reached for the light switch on autopilot, but the lights were already on. Huh. You thought you'd turned them off, but this wouldn’t be the first time that happened, especially these last couple of days. It was, certainly, nothing to worry about. You locked and bolted the door behind you, still unsure of what the hell you were going to do with the two-dozen failed _cuernitos_ you'd made. Maybe you could feed them to the stray dogs that liked to hang around the block. Or you could, you know, swallow your pride, toast them for breakfast, eat them with some jam…  
  
All your thoughts came to a violent halt when you stepped into the kitchen, a chilling type of dread taking over your body, heart stammering painfully in your chest.   
  
A man was there, sitting by the table, seemingly engrossed in the half-eaten _cuernito_ in his hand. He looked oddly familiar, and smiled with a little too much delight at your shocked expression. You took a step back when he stood up, and all you could do was throw your nearly-empty paper cup at him. It bounced off his broad chest before it landed on the ground, spilling its contents on his boots. He raised an eyebrow. You turned around and ran.  
  
“Fuck!” Your shaking hands fumbled with the chain on the door with no avail, and something cold was pressed on the back of your head, making you freeze with fear.The man cocked his gun as an unspoken warning.

“Come, take a seat.” 

You followed him to the kitchen, and he made the grand gesture of pulling out a chair for you, going as far as pretending to dust off the seat.  
  
“Where is Sombra?”  
  
“Sombra?” You echoed, confused. Sombra was the name of group of hackers that made headlines not so long ago, and you knew absolutely nothing beyond that. “I… I don’t know.”  
  
He slammed his hand on the table, and the sudden action made you jump. “I’m not here to play games.” He waited until you numbly nodded, his gaze hardening. “Where is she?”  
  
“I don’t know.” You reinstated, emphasizing each word. Why was he asking you that? Why was referring to them as ‘her’? You were just a baker, for fuck’s sake, how could he expect you to-  
  
Pain erupted on the side of your face, searing and red. Newly formed tears blurred your vision, feeling too hot on your skin as they rolled down your cheeks.  
  
“Don’t make me repeat this again.” He got down to your level. His face was hardened with age and battle scars, his eyes threatening pools of danger and fury. “Where is your girlfriend?”

* * *

Sombra relaxed against her seat as she watched an influx of information come alive on her holographic screens, eyes quickly darting from one screen to the other, fingers constantly tapping this and that. Amélie rested gracefully beside her, the side of her head resting against the jet’s cold window, arms loosely crossed against her chest. She could pretend she hated the constant noise Sombra made as she worked, but the hacker knew she found it soothing, even if the sniper would never acknowledge it.  
  
She didn’t know why she even bothered stalling any information about their little mission. The Council decided she had to take care of every single news outlet and article that dared to mention what they'd done. It wasn't _permanent_ , but they were deliberately creating a pattern that was bound to bite them in the ass later on. Sombra told them it was a bad idea, and what they chose to do with that information was not her problem anymore. She was just following orders, after all.  
  
As if she’d ever been good at that.  
  
But she knew how to pick her battles. Do enough so they wouldn’t bat an eye when she kept asking for more and more. Like a room with a private bathroom. Her own lock on the door instead of those flimsy key card things Talon loved. A pay raise. Let Amélie and her take the private jet that was collecting dust in the hangar instead of the dropship because the seats made her ass hurt.  
  
A pop-up suddenly appeared on all her screens, interrupting her workflow and demanding her attention as it blurred everything behind it.  
  
 _LLAMADA ENTRANTE  
_  
The not-so-random string of letters and numbers indicated that it was a call from you and, for a moment, Sombra just stared at the blinking letters, fingers hovering over the screens.  
  
Letting go was infinitely easier. She’d always been too good at that. Disappearing without a trace, telling herself that she was doing it for them, not just for her.  
  
Then why was she hesitating?  
  
It was laughable, really. Was she going soft? Was it because your house felt like a home? Because she never slept as well as she did when she was with you?  
  
A flick of her wrist was enough to make everything in front of her disappear -and for her to make her choice.  
  
She silently slipped out of her seat and made her way to the bathroom on the back, closing the door softly behind her. Sombra could barely fit in there. Everything rattled inside as a bout of turbulence hit the plane, but she ignored it as she popped in the tiny earpiece she had in her pocket, frowning as she tried to tune out the sounds of the engines blasting outside.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
“ _Sombra?_ ”  
  
“What are you talking about?” The hacker caught her reflection in the mirror, the worry in her eyes that she refused to convey with her tone. You were not supposed to know that. She’d done everything in her damn power to hide it from you.  
  
Something was wrong. Very fucking wrong.  
  
“ _Can you come over? There’s someone who wants to see you_.”   
  
And, with that, the line went dead.  
  
“ _¡Puta madre!_ ”   
  
She stormed out of the bathroom, the door slamming behind her. She was not scared. Of course she wasn’t. The hacker made her way to the pilot’s door and, with a quick tap of her fingers, hacked it open, making the poor man jump in his seat at the intrusion. “Drop me in Mexico.”  
  
“Sorry, I have strict orders to take you back to HQ.”  
  
She had no time for that bullshit.  
  
Sombra gave the pilot a sickly-sweet smile and, without breaking eye contact, hacked into the instrument panel. A myriad of warnings appeared on the pilot’s screen, who helplessly tried to regain control as the plane quickly began to lose altitude. “I asked nicely.”  
  
The hacker plopped down on her seat, feeling the tension in her body manifest as a numbing headache. She needed to scrap her personal secure network, send a warning to the couple of people who had access to it, and, most importantly, track you down. You were nothing but a blinking and unmoving red dot on her screen, but for how long? Who were they? What did they want?  
  
“Where are we going?”  
  
“You’re going back to HQ while I take care of some business.” Sombra replied, and paused to regard the sniper. “It’s… personal. Don’t tell Gabe.”  
  
“I won’t need to.” Amélie said, and Sombra duly noted that she was right. There was no way the pilot was going to keep his mouth shut. “Can you handle it alone?” The sniper continued after a pause.

Sombra appreciated the sentiment, but she didn't want to drag her into that mess. Not when she could be dealing with _them_.

“I’ll manage.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bread talk's back! _Cuernitos_ are good ol' croissants. 
> 
> _Llamada entrante_ is incoming call, and _puta madre_ is one of the many ways of saying fuck in Spanish ( in case you're wondering, the literal translation of that is whore mother).
> 
> Also, a little bit of a heads up. The next couple of chapters are going to be in Sombra's POV just to keep things fun and fresh. Hope y'all don't mind. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


	6. Zugzwang

Sombra never fancied herself as a pawn. She’d always been the one pulling the strings, always one step ahead, but now she was just that: a pawn trapped in someone else’s game because she’d been too damn _careless_.  
  
The uniform she donned was another reminder of that. Talon was, unsurprisingly, using the jet as a glorified storage facility, and Sombra found it in the back, waiting for her in a forgotten pile.  
  
She didn’t like what she saw in the mirror. The assassin’s armor clung to her frame, light and sturdy enough to endure a couple of blows, but it made her look entirely disposable. Desperate, even. And maybe she was, if that sinking sensation in her stomach was anything to go by. 

  
  
Feeling powerless was something the hacker wasn’t used to experiencing. The call had been too vague, and she had an endless list of enemies who would love to get a piece of her no matter the cost. A good chunk of them were nothing to worry about, but what if _they_ were behind it? Sombra was _born_ because of the Conspiracy. They had eyes everywhere it mattered, and if they had gotten to you…  
  
No. She didn’t want to go there.   
  
Amélie didn’t question her newly-acquired fashion sense, at least not out loud, but anything was better than that lousy ‘tourist’ outfit Sombra wore for the mission.   
  
The night was cold, filling Sombra’s lungs with air so crisp that it burned. Your phone led her to an abandoned warehouse located on a thriving industrial park. The security gate was unlocked, the parking lot empty and devoid. The lights were on in a couple of buildings, but the whole place was ‘closed for renovations’ that weekend.  
  
It was clear someone had bribed their way in and, conveniently, left the security cameras on. As if she’d fall for that. One quick swipe of her fingers had been enough to turn them off, making them look like useless pieces of scrap metal without the little blinking light underneath.  
  
Half a dozen men were standing outside the warehouse, dressed to impress and holding heavy guns in their hands. Not that it truly mattered. Shots echoed in the air. Bullets buzzed past her ears and out of the barrel of her gun. Bodies fell unceremoniously to the ground, traces of red pooling under dusty bulletproof vests.   
  
It was all so… cliché.  
  
Guns with no serial numbers. Black ski masks. Empty buildings away from the city. It felt like something straight out of a shitty action movie that badly mimicked a cartel’s modus operandi. That’s how Sombra knew the Conspiracy wasn’t behind it. They were _better_ than that. Was it relieving? Yes, but not by much. She couldn’t afford to take this lightly.  
  
The hacker snuck inside the building, invisible to the naked eye, even if the gunshots might’ve alerted anyone who was in the vicinity. The decrepit facility seemed vacant, the air pungent with rust and dirt. Moonbeams seeped in through the windows, providing just enough light for her to maneuver around.  
  
The only hackable thing around were the lights, feeble and broken as they were, but she’d take whatever would act on her favor. They blinked alive, shrouding everything in a dull fluorescent white.   
  
Rusted pillars and debris surrounded her, faux brick walls sectioning the vast space. She produced a holographic screen, frowning as she watched the red blinking dot in the same place it’d been for the last couple of hours. It was a trap. She was painfully aware of it. But there was nothing she could do. Nothing but play along and see how things would unfold.  
  
She reached the secluded room near the back only to find it empty. Your cellphone was there among the rubble, its screen cracked and caked with dirt. The hacker reached down to grab it, her body materializing in a purple haze as soon as her fingers touched the hard plastic.   
  
A door screeched open outside. She took a deep breath.   
  
Sombra saw your tear-streaked face first, eyes all red, purple bruises trailing down your cheek. You took an eager step forward, only to be forcefully yanked back to stay in place. She felt her blood boil, jaw tightening as she finally addressed the man beside you by pointing her gun at him.   
  
Oh, she’d recognize him anywhere. The graying hair. The hardened face. The ever so cocky smile plastered on his face.   
  
“Daniel Aguilar.” She greeted, none too kindly. He’d been the head of the Presidential General Staff a number of years ago, worshiping the ground Guillermo Portero walked on until he appointed him as his personal bodyguard when his term of office ended. He’d always done Portero’s dirty work, and it looked like someone still couldn’t let things go.  
  
“Sombra, it’s a _pleasure_ to finally meet you.” He said, unfazed. His eyes traveled down to the bright T on the hacker’s armor and, for a split second, his face twisted into a frown. “Interesting.”

“Wish I could say the same.” Sombra replied. Aguilar chuckled, and the low, throaty sound made her tighten the grip on her gun. “What do you want?”  
  
“To have a friendly chat.” Aguilar pushed you forward to back up his statement, and you froze at the sudden contact, eyes wide as you waited for permission to move. He nodded, clearly amused, and turned to address the hacker with a smile.  
  
Sombra watched you take shaky steps towards her from the corner of her eye, but she remained impassive, holding Aguilar's gaze. She wanted to make sure you wouldn’t trip and fall. Wanted to silently reassure you that it would all be fine. But she didn’t. She focused on his idle movements, his stiff posture, where his hands were, waiting for his fingers to inch towards his gun, even if they never did. Yet the act dropped as soon as you were at arm’s length.  
  
The hacker reached forward, her gaze softening with worry. “Are you okay?”   
  
A stiff nod was all you were able to give her, too shaken to do more and, now that you were finally with her, she took a step forward, blocking your body with hers protectively.   
  
“Why LumériCo? You don’t seem like the kind of person who cares about the state of this crumbling country.” Aguilar said and stepped forward, raising his hands up in mocking surrender when Sombra aimed her gun back at his head.   
  
“I had my reasons.”   
  
In any other situation, Sombra wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his head. Problem was she wasn’t alone. You were behind her, shaking like a leaf, and you’d already dealt with enough shit today.  
  
“That’s fair, I suppose.” He said after a shrug and looked around the empty space, staring out the windows and into the starless night. “Relax. You have her now. She’s safe. I know you killed my men. Can’t say I’m happy about that, but I get it. They were… collateral damage.”   
  
“It’s nice to see you think so highly of them.”  
  
“They should’ve known better.” His smile widened, the gesture not quite reaching his eyes. The tension in the air became heavier and, in the blink of an eye, Aguilar reached for something behind his back before tossing it Sombra’s way. She fired in retaliation, her shots buzzing past his head and into the pillar behind him.   
  
She barely caught a glimpse of the cylindrical object that was flying through the air and, without thinking twice about it, pushed you away, sending you stumbling backwards and into the ground. “Get out of here!”  
  
The flashbang exploded midair, engulfing Sombra in a blinding light. A high-pitched ringing resonated in her skull, her vision slowly coming back in a blurry haze after seeing nothing but white. She saw Aguilar’s towering frame approach before she was slammed against the nearest pillar, her armor cracking under the pressure. Searing pain exploded on her back, tearing a pained grunt off her lips before she was violently thrown to the ground.  
  
Aguilar stomped her hand with enough force to make the hacker loosen her grip on her gun. He kicked it away from her reach with a snort.  
  
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” He started, crouching until he was at her eye level. “We’re going to put on a show for your girlfriend, just to show her what happens when you cross Guillermo. And then she’s going to get the same treatment, just to be fair.”  
  
“So he’s not killing me himself? What a shame.”   
  
“Don’t worry, he’ll be here to see the aftermath.” 

She kept her expression blank as she pulled herself together, using the pillar as support. There was a sparkle of amusement in Aguilar’s eyes at the hacker’s persistence, and he had the nerve to wait until she was more or less on her feet before he stood up as well.  
  
In one fluid motion, Sombra met the muzzle of a gun, her mind still in a daze. But she wasn’t going down without a fight. She gripped it with all the strength she could muster, not quite caring about the pain that shot through her right hand as Aguilar fired, hitting a lightbulb somewhere overhead. Her balance was off, but she managed to kick him straight in the stomach, knocking the air out of him. He didn't like that. Cold gunmetal collided with the side of her face, and the blow had been heavy enough to knock her to the ground.   
  
“Olivia!”  
  
“I’m fine, just _go_.” Sombra pushed through the pain, holding on to the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she tried to get back up, only to be struck down once more.  
  
She always had a backup plan and, this time, it was no exception. Her translocator was still out there, away from the building and looming danger. She could get out. Save herself. But, if she used it, Aguilar would shift his attention to _you_. Sombra couldn’t let that happen. If there was a sliver of hope that you could make it out alive, then she’d take that chance. She owed you that much.  
  
Death was always a possibility in Sombra’s line of work. She’d faced it countless times, always coming out bruised but never beaten. And now, as her eyes tried to focus on Aguilar’s gun, tuning out the sounds of his incessant ‘last words’ blabber, all she could think about was how she ended up there, in the last throes of defeat.

There was a reason why she barely had any friends. Why she'd refused to fall in love. Being alone had always been the safer choice. No one could be used against her. No one had to suffer for her mistakes. But, this time, she'd flown too close to the sun, basking in the warmth because she was in too deep. Everything was too pure, too good to let it go. She _wanted_ to stay. Wanted to love you as much as you loved her.

And look how that turned out.  
  
Her arms trembled as she tried to, at least, prompt herself up on her elbows. She had her dignity left, and she wouldn’t go down looking at the ground. He cocked his gun. Sombra merely waited.

She heard it first. The flurry of bullets flying in the air before they struck her armor, piercing through her torso with surprising ease. Then, she saw it. Aguilar’s gun fell to the ground, bouncing off the concrete in front of her. He stared at a spot behind Sombra before his knees gave in. Gunshot wounds traveled up his torso and all the way up, blood steadily gushing out his neck and staining the floor red.  
  
Sombra mustered enough strength to look behind her, feeling her heart thumping painfully in her chest. You held her gun in your shaking hands, finger on the trigger still, pointing it at where Aguilar’s body used to stand. 

It was a sight she never wanted to see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fight scenes are hard, y'all.
> 
> I commissioned the amazingly talented [Betty](https://unusualmuffin-art.tumblr.com/) for the fanart featured on this chapter! Please go check out her work! 
> 
> Updates will be a bit slower from now on, but I'll try my best not to keep you waiting for too long. Sombra has a lot of explaining to do and I'm excited about that, lol. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


	7. True Colors

Sombra hadn't been there in years.   
  
The building had the same dull grey walls. The same old mismatched tiles on the floor. Everything smelled like cigarettes and metal with the faintest hint of flowery cleaner. This had been her ‘home’ for a while. No one at the orphanage questioned why she always went missing until nightfall. They were all too busy, too tired to care about what a little girl was doing out in the streets. But _they_ did, for one reason or another.  
  
Los Muertos received her with open arms and no questions asked, just like Sombra expected. Calling them was the only decent plan she’d been able to come up with back at the warehouse and, soon after, a black sedan had screeched its way there. Traffic signs became mere suggestions when Carlos saw how wounded she was -not to mention they needed to get the hell out of there before someone found Aguilar's body.  
  
“You look like hell.” Diana said as soon as they stepped inside, brows furrowed, which only crinkled the neon paint on her face. She had to quit med school when she could no longer afford it, and Los Muertos took her in as their official medic not long after.   
  
“Should’ve seen the other guy!” Carlos chimed, dragging the thumb of his free hand across his neck, tongue sticking out to the side for good measure. Sombra glared at him. He mouthed an apology as he gently helped her sit down on the old dentist chair they had in the back.  
  
You looked so out of place there, the residual shock still fresh on your face. Diana dragged a chair over so you could sit down, and asked you a couple of questions that you could only give numb replies to. The medic turned to face Sombra, but stopped when the hacker spoke up.  
  
“Check her first.”  
  
Diana gave her a pointed look before she leaned over to inspect the bruises on your face. She knew that arguing with Sombra would only make things harder.  
  
“ _Ay_ , Sombrita…” Carlos spoke beside her.  
  
“Help me take this thing off.”

Taking the armor off the top half of her body without hurting her was more difficult than it looked. Her right hand was reddened and swollen, the imprint of the metal parts of her glove leaving ghastly lines on her skin, but at least she didn’t have any broken bones.   
  
“They're just bruises. There’s nothing I can do about it.” Diana said, dragging a stool close to Sombra, supplies ready in her hand. “Take a deep breath.”  
  
The pain was searing and sharp as Diana cleaned her wounds, keeping steady pressure on them. Sombra cried out, teeth gritting. She didn’t miss this at all. Moira could heal her in a matter of seconds with that piss-colored thing that came out of her biotic grasp, all pain free. And, hell, so could Baptiste when he was still around. She was certain she had a couple of his healing projectiles somewhere in her room, but there was no use thinking about it now.   
  
“Where did you get that armor?” Diana asked, maybe to keep the hacker’s mind off the pain.  
  
“I stole it.”  
  
“You shouldn’t mess with Talon.”  
  
“I know what I’m doing.” If Sombra was in a better mood, she would’ve snorted at the little eyebrow raise Diana threw her way.   
  
Old and new faces swarmed the room and, by the end of the night, Sombra had a new change of clothes, an ice pack, a couple of meters of bandages, painkillers, and the keys to a car. Not that any of that came for free, but she’d worry about it when the time came.

* * *

No one had ever been in Sombra’s studio apartment before. Not in this one, at least. She supposed some would call her space ‘deplorable’. The kitchen was barely functional, the mini fridge solely stocked with energy drinks. Her bed consisted of a mattress she’d never bothered getting bedsheets for, two mismatched pillows, and a couple of hastily folded blankets with two stuffed animals resting on top.   
  
Several boxes were piled in a corner, all of them full of computer parts and tools. Broken translocators laid on the floor and dining table, documents strewn here and there. It was very bare and bleak save for her computers. She’d lost count of how many she had. How many screens adorned that small space. Everything on the far end of the room was engulfed in a purple light, a massive holographic screen taking up almost an entire wall.

It didn't feel like home, and she never expected it to. Her home was not so far away from there, where most of her stuff was in actual drawers and she drank coffee out of a ceramic mug she'd claimed as her own. Home smelled like your perfume and was always filled with soft laughter, not the constant hum of her computers working tirelessly throughout the night.  
  
Sleeping was the only thing Sombra could do right now, but she felt restless, her mind refusing to shut down for the night as she stared at the ceiling fan slowly spinning above her head. She should be working right now, finding ways to ruin Guillermo once again, but she couldn’t. The pain was still there, dull and throbbing, the painkillers not numbing it enough for her to push through it all.   
  
You were asleep beside her, facing the desk, holding Arturito in a loose hug while Sombra caressed the soft fabric of Mariana. You’d gifted her the bee plushie after claiming she was ‘a busy bee’, and the memory managed to make the corners of her lips twitch up, even if the sentiment didn’t last.

Sombra knew she’d been selfish.   
  
Flirting with you had been fun at first -she _had_ to do it after seeing the way you’d stared at her the first time she walked through the door-, but everything changed after you gave her that _concha_. She remembered staring at it as she sat in front of her desk, admiring its vibrant color and thinking that you were _definitely_ wooing her. She’d found that funny enough to laugh out loud. And cute, in a way. She couldn’t remember the last time someone actually tried to pull that stunt.  
  
So she entertained the idea. Let the sentiment grow until it swallowed her whole. Sombra could pinpoint the exact moment she realized it was no longer a game. The moment that little voice in her head told her she should tread lightly.   
  
The hacker ignored it. Kept coming home more often than she had to. Found herself buying flowers from street vendors at two in the morning. Woke up by your side and thought that maybe, for once, she could allow herself to stay.   
  
But Sombra had always known she wasn’t meant for any of this. For peace. For love. For whatever the world wanted her to be when she was born. And this was just another painful reminder of that.   
  
“Are you awake?” Your voice was soft, but it managed to snap Sombra out of her thoughts all the same.   
  
“I am.”   
  
She watched you turn around, the teddy bear still in your arms. “I can’t sleep.” You started, voice almost drowned out by the electric buzz of the computers around you. “I killed him, Olivia.”  
  
“You saved us.”   
  
“I _shot_ you.”  
  
“And I’m still alive because you did.”  
  
A heavy silence fell upon the room, broken only by a shaky sigh as you scooted closer to her. Sombra saw you reach out to her, fingers gently combing through her hair like you’ve done so many times before.   
  
“Can you be honest with me? Please.”  
  
Sombra didn’t reply. She looked at the outline of your face in the dark, focused on the soft movements of your fingers on her scalp before you took a deep breath.

“Are you with Talon?”   
  
She didn’t want to answer. You sounded almost afraid when those words left your mouth, and Sombra knew exactly what you wanted to hear. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Couldn’t lie again when the signs were all there and the damage had already been done.   
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Were you ever going to tell me?” This time, your hand traveled to her cheek, thumb grazing her cheekbone tenderly. Lovingly. Sombra shook her head.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Because she was afraid.  
  
Sombra had always tried to bury her fears deep inside. She had to be untouchable. Unattainable. But everything she’d done stemmed from that childish fear of being alone. Of losing everything again. That’s why she _needed_ control. There was nothing to lose if she had it all. If everyone was wrapped around her finger.   
  
It was hard to accept that Olivia was never truly gone. That she’d always been there in the back of her mind, holding on to all the blurry memories of her past, craving everything she couldn’t have.   
  
“I didn’t want to lose you.”   
  
“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”  
  
All the pent-up emotion came out as your voice cracked, and Sombra's chest tightened, eyes growing hot as an unpleasant feeling trickled behind them. She hadn’t cried in too long, always swallowing the grief until it rose to her skull in the form of a dull ache. She couldn’t do it this time either, the pain forming once more as she mulled over your words.  
  
“You don’t have to.” Sombra finally said. She rested her hand on your cheek, and tried to wipe away your tears with her thumb. “Say the word and you won’t see me again.” 

She sincerely meant it.   
  
To her, you were a ray of sunshine in that godforsaken town, warm and bright, seeping in through every crack of her hardened heart, and she managed to smother your light until only shadows remained. Sombra never meant to hurt you. Hated seeing you cry because of her. But, even then, it was hard to let go. She _couldn't_ let you go. Not until you told her it was all over.  
  
“I can’t, Olivia. I _can’t_.” Your hand never left her skin, still trying to bring her the comfort she didn’t deserve. “Promise me you won’t lie again. Please. No more secrets.”  
  
Sombra didn’t know if she could. You wouldn’t like who or what she was once all her walls crumbled down and her soul laid bare. She kept stroking your cheek, each passing moment more suffocating than the last as her silence filled the room.  
  
“I promise.” Her words seemed to linger in the air, sinking into her skull, settling heavily into her heart.  
  
Your lips found hers in the dark, eager and gentle before you broke it off with a shaky breath. Sombra rested her forehead against yours, mustering the courage to finally say what her heart longed to utter.  
  
“I love you.” She whispered.   
  
“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all like soft Sombra cause we're not finished yet!
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


	8. Opening Up

No more secrets. No more lies.   
  
Your words echoed on Sombra’s mind, and she dryly thought that was easier said than done. She didn’t know where to start. How much to unveil. But she never made promises she couldn’t keep, no matter how difficult it was to see them through.  
  
Sombra was aware she had one shot to salvage the relationship and earn your trust again, so she began with what concerned you the most:  
  
Did her views align with Talon’s? No, not quite. But she didn’t hesitate when they invited her to join. Talon paid well, gave her an almost infinite amount of resources, and she always made sure to take more than what she gave them.  
  
She wanted information. Power. And if being with Talon would take her one step closer to her goals, so be it.   
  
Sombra could leave if she wanted to. She assured you that much. But not now. Not yet.  
  
She spoke about Los Muertos the day after.  
  
Sombra was a little girl when she joined them. Orphaned, full of spite, but she was just what they needed- and what _she_ needed at the time. She was barely 13 the first time she had to pull a bullet through someone’s skull. 15 when she had enough power to call the shots.   
  
You’d seen them. Knew what they did. Los Muertos weren’t as bad as some people made them seem to be, and a little anarchy never hurt anyone, did it?  
  
And, now, the hacker knew what was to come.   
  
Sombra never talked about _them_. She had no reason to. They were the pieces of her past she’d always played close to her chest, but she believed it was time for proper introductions.  
  
She spoke about her parents. About all the afternoons her father spent patiently teaching her how to use the computer. How much her mother had laughed when she found her rummaging through her makeup bag with purple lipstick smeared across her lips.   
  
They were as happy as they could be, and her parents loved her with every fiber of their souls, but the Omnic Crisis took everything away from her.   
  
She saw their bodies. Their blood-stained faces while blue and red lights painted the streets. The paramedics had to drag her away from her crumbling home, screaming and crying until she could do nothing but stare vacantly at the teddy bear in her arms as they draped a shock blanket around her body.   
  
Those images were deeply rooted in her skull and, if she concentrated enough, she could still hear the sirens. See the blinding lights behind her eyes. Taste the blood and tears on her lips.  
  
She’d give anything to remember how their faces looked like without that vacant look in their eyes. To hear her mother singing in the kitchen every morning and her father’s booming laugh echoing through the hallways. They’d been too young. She’d been too young.  
  
And it wasn’t fucking _fair_.   
  
Sombra felt something hot unwillingly trickling down her face. Tears. Angry, grief-stricken tears that refused to be contained. She swallowed thickly, trying to get rid of the painful lump that had formed in her throat. And, at that moment, she felt like a child once more, crying over her parents like she’d done for so many nights when she was too young to bottle everything up.  
  
Her parents' deaths were gaping wounds in her very soul that she’d never been able to close, and she always tried to dismiss those memories by hacking until she was too tired to focus or drinking until she felt nothing. But she couldn’t do it right now. She’d gone too deep and all she could do was force herself to breathe, hoping that would be enough to bring her back to the present.  
  
Sombra felt your lips on her cheek tenderly kissing the tears away, whispering comforting words as you held her in your arms. The night was her friend once more, hiding away all the emotion on her face as you both laid in bed, the sunshine in your voice warming her heart bit by bit, ushering the darkness away.   
  
She wasn’t sure how long she stayed awake after sleep took over you, tossing and turning before she felt the suffocating need to go outside, leaving Arturito tucked in her side of the bed.  
  
The hacker knew she shouldn’t be wasting the few translocators she had lying around, but that didn’t stop her from throwing one at the top of the watchtower near her studio. The stairs had been sealed off for as long as she could remember, and Sombra knew she could be there, unbothered, legs swinging over the edge.  
  
It was too dark to see the sea, but she could hear the waves rolling in the distance, feel the vague taste of salt lingering in the air. Dorado was still asleep, only a couple of yellow lights illuminating the city below.   
  
Cutting herself open like that had been draining, both physically and emotionally, and those tales were only a fraction of it all. Single serving tastes of her life.

A gloved hand created and destroyed a data cube almost mechanically, her eyes focused on the stars. The high-pitched sound was soothing, in a way. Grounding. The light like a small beacon glowing purple until it started blinking pink.   
  
Sombra frowned, swiping her hand up to bring the information forth before her eyes.

_LLAMADA ENTRANTE_

A familiar name appeared on the screen and, against her better judgement, she took the call.  
  
“ _Where are you?_ ”

Oh, Gabe was definitely pissed. Disappearing after a mission wasn’t that uncommon for her, but Amélie had been right. Threatening the pilot was something that would make its way to him sooner or later. Sombra was only surprised it took _that_ long to happen.

“Around.”

“ _Sombra_.”  
  
The hacker could lie like she always did. Spewing lies and half-truths to those who questioned her felt like second nature to her, but she didn’t want to go down that road. Not tonight. Not with Gabe.  
  
He picked favorites, and she’d managed to worm her way into his cold, dead heart. It was funny to see him jump down the throats of those who did as much as raise their voice at her. And maybe, just maybe, she pressed people’s buttons just to get a rise out of the big, bad Reaper. He cared about her in his own, strange way, and Sombra cared enough about him to feel that she owed him an explanation.  
  
“My girlfriend was kidnapped.” She admitted after a pause, knowing very well she didn’t need to go into details. That simple sentence was all too telling, wasn't it? And saying it out loud make her feel far more vulnerable than she already was. “I had to be here.”  
  
“ _Who did it?_ ”   
  
“No one you should be worried about,” Sombra replied. Mentioning Portero's name would grant him an agonizing death, judging by how venomous Gabe's tone had been, but she had to decline the implicit offer, as tempting as it was. “She’s fine, and so am I.”  
  
“ _Prove it._ ”

He knew her too well.  
  
“I can’t. It’s 3 a.m. and I’m outside.” Sombra's excuse was met with radio silence. Sometimes they would do that. Remain silent until one of them caved in. Sombra's silence could be dangerous, and Gabe's could be annoyingly unbearable. A couple of seconds passed. The hacker sighed. “Turn on your camera too. Don’t want to feel like I’m talking to a wall.”  
  
Seeing that emotionless owl mask wasn’t any better, not when she was out there, eyes puffed and red, hair falling limp on her shoulders, tints of black and blue on her face. Sombra wasn’t sure how much Gabe could _actually_ see, but she swore his posture seemed to stiffen.  
  
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”  
  
“ _I don’t._ ”  
  
She snorted, the corners of her lips tiredly twitching up. He was as bad at these things as she was. Maybe that’s why he liked her so much. Or not.   
  
Sombra could claim she didn’t know what Gabe saw in her, but that would be a blatant lie.  
  
He asked her to find someone a couple of years ago. A woman, roughly Sombra’s age, who lived somewhere in Canada with her husband and son. She had his surname, the same eyes he used to have before the incident. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.  
  
Sombra and her were nothing alike. If anything, their skin tones were vaguely similar. But that didn’t really matter, did it? Every now and then Sombra was the daughter he couldn’t raise, and he was the father she lost long ago. Funny how life worked.  
  
A knock echoed on Gabe’s end, his head turning slightly to the right, seemingly looking at a door in front of him before he addressed her again.  
  
“ _Be here next week._ ”   
  
And, with that, the video feed cut off.   
  
Sombra dismissed the screen, shivering as a cold gust of wind blew on her face. A couple of days were as much lenience as he could give her -he _was_ part of the Council, after all-, and she wasn’t sure that would be enough. But one thing was certain: seeing Gabe, even for those scarce minutes, managed to comfort her somehow, someway, the tension in her shoulders dissipating and giving way to a strange type of exhaustion as the day’s events crashed down on her.   
  
But sleeping was out of the question. She had no time to waste.  
  
Her second translocator landed on the sidewalk when she tossed it down, a slight wave of nausea hitting her as she gently opened the door of her studio. You were still asleep, lying on your side and facing the wall as she sat down in front of her computers. Her skull logo greeted her, engulfing the room in purple light as all her screens came alive.  
  
The taste of cherry coated her tongue as Sombra took a sip of the energy drink she’d just opened, frowning as the carbonated bubbles seemed to travel up her nose. She drank so many of those things they barely had an effect on her, but she had a long night ahead, and if the caffeine didn't keep her awake, the sugar certainly would.  
  
Guillermo Portero’s image appeared on the main screen, the smile on his lips enough to make her blood boil.  
  
But she’d make him pay, in one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, y'all!
> 
> Writing for a new fandom is always scary and this fic has been consistently pushing me out of my comfort zone, so I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support! It truly means a lot. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! And see ya next year!


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